A Peaceful Ending
by The Real Mark
Summary: An alternate ending to Sweeney Todd: What would have happened if Johanna hadn't been waiting in the barber shop that night. Just a short two-shot, but DEFINITELY how I think the movie should have ended. Sweenett. Rated for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a short two-shot. This is how I think Sweeney Todd should have ended. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd. Duh.  
**

**Chapter One: Revenge is Sweet **

As the judge burst into the small shop, Sweeney tried to gather his bearings. Killings always had always given him a wonderful rush, but he had never slaughtered a woman before. Usually he was calm after murdering anyone, but the tension that had been building while he had been waiting for the judge had suddenly broken out, and he was slightly shaky.

"Where is she?" demanded the Turpin.

Sweeney turned around. "Below," he said, slightly shakily. "With my neighbor." The judge looked immensely anxious and about to charge back down the stairs. Sweeney stepped forward hastily. "Thank heavens that sailor did not molest her," he said, pulling the judge gently into the shop. All he needed was for that dirty bastard to trust him, just for a moment or two. It was a good thing for Sweeney that he had a tongue to sooth even the most agitated of gentlemen. He knew exactly what to say. "Thank heavens too that she has seen the error of her ways."

It worked. "She has?" Turpin asked in a completely different voice, sounding like a slightly lost child.

"Oh yes," said Sweeney. He kept his face comforting, while his insides were full of hatred and disgust for the man who would rape a woman and then marry her daughter. "Your lesson was well learned. She speaks only of you, longing for forgiveness."

Turpin's face hideous face softened. "Then she shall have it," he said piteously. Abruptly, he was anxious again. "She'll be here soon?"

_Focus on your goal_, Sweeney thought to himself, holding down the urge to retch. "Yes," he told the judge. The bastard still was not where Sweeney needed him to be.

The Turpin smiled. "Excellent, my friend."

Sweeney smiled back. _The filth still thinks I'm on his side, _he thought. Then he spoke the words that had been the last for many a gentleman's ears.

"How 'bout a shave? Sit, sir, sit."

The judge sat in Sweeney's trap chair. "Johanna, Johanna," he murmured.

"Yes, sir, Johanna," Sweeney said, spreading the cloth around Turpin. _Now he's comfortable. He's not going anywhere, _he thought, unfolding his favorite razor. Sweeney could take his time with his revenge.

"How seldom it is when one meets a fellow spirit," said Turpin lazily, not looking at Sweeney.

"With fellow tastes," agreed Sweeney.

And in that moment, he suddenly knew that killing the judge would not be enough. He needed Turpin to know exactly who's hand he was about to die by.

"In women, at least."

"What's that?" asked the scum in the chair, not realizing the meaning to Sweeney's words.

"The years, no doubt, have changed me, sir," said Sweeney, leaning toward the judge. "But then I suppose the face of a barber-" Turpin looked up, slowly understanding "-the face of a prisoner in the dark, is not particularly memorable." Sweeney smiled, raising his hand holding the razor as the judge's look of calm relaxation was replaced by one of fury.

"Benjamin Barker!" Turpin said, his voice shaking with anger.

"_**BENJAMIN BARKER!**"_ bellowed Sweeney, his own voice full of rage and hatred and disgust. Without hesitation, he plunged his razor into the judge's neck. Blood sprayed over the wall's, covering Sweeney's face. He stabbed Turpin again, three, four, five times, until his savagery was spent. The judge gurgled weakly, looking up at Sweeney, barely alive. Sweeney slashed his throat one last time, and watched as the Turpin's head fell backward. Stepping on the pedal, the judge's pathetic corpse tumbled down to the bake house, making a satisfying _crack _as his head his the stone floor.

Sweeney held his razor aloft, his shirtsleeve soaked in blood. He could not think of anything, of Mrs. Lovett down below, of Lucy up above, even of Johanna. All he could feel was the remarkable weight taken off of his weary shoulders. The judge was dead. Judge Turpin. Gone. Dead. Sweeney's work was finally complete. He had not spent 15 years slaving in Australia for naught. He could finally rest.

Sweeney looked into his reflection on his razor and at last saw a man untroubled by unpaid debts. "Rest now, my friend," he murmured to the tool of his freedom, kneeling at his chair and placing the razor on it. "Rest now forever. Sleep now the untroubled sleep of the angels." Everything could wait now. There was no hurry for anything. Curling on the floor, the demon barber finally drifted into a beautiful, dreamless sleep.

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**So, what does everyone think? It's not my best work, but it's how definitely Sweeney Todd SHOULD have ended. Not that that's the end. Oh no. More is coming. More is coming very soon…..mwahahahaha. **

**By the way, does anyone else find the idea of Sweeney fast asleep really, really adorable? I do. Please review!!! First fanfic!!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Second part to a two-part story. Just felt like writing it. Hope you like!  
**

**_____________________________________________________________________**

**Chapter Two: New Man  
**

"DIE!" screamed Mrs. Lovett at the mangled Judge Turpin that had a hold of her dress. "God in Heaven, die!" His grip on the fabric loosened.

_How was he still alive? _thought Mrs. Lovett. _He looks pretty bad. And no wonder. Mr. T. finally got his revenge. I wonder what he'll do now. He's avenged his Lucy. . ._

And speaking of Lucy.

"You," breathed Mrs. Lovett, seeing the body lying next to those of Turpin's and Beadle's. Lucy Barker, her throat slit, barely recognizable. _Oh no, _thought Mrs. Lovett. _Mr. T.'s gone and killed her without realizing who she was. _

There was only one thing to do. Mrs. Lovett picked up the remains under its arms and started dragging it toward the oven. She had screamed pretty loudly before, and it would surely only be a matter of time before Mr. T. came downstairs.

Her back ached with the strain of Lucy's dead weight. Finally, reaching the fiery oven, Mrs. Lovett heaved it open and threw Lucy's corpse into the flames, watching it burn. Then she relaxed. The judge, Beadle, and Lucy were all dead now. The core of their problems were gone. But still, one complication remained.

"Toby," called Mrs. Lovett softly and tenderly. "Where are you, love?" She moved around the small bake house, checking in the shadows. "Nothing's gonna harm you, darling," she said loud enough for him to hear, wherever he was. "I promise, nothing's gonna hurt ya, not while I'm around." Of course, she thought bitterly, the boy knew what she did with dead bodies, so he wasn't likely to come out of hiding.

Then she heard, ever so quiet, the grating of metal on stone. The sewer. He had been hiding in the drains. That must've taken courage.

Knowing she had to make sure not to frighten the boy, she held up her hands to show that she wasn't holding anything as she turned around. Toby raised himself slowly out of the hole in the floor, absolutely filthy and looking warily terrified.

"I know what Mr. Todd did to those men who came for shaves," he said, trying to sound brave. "And I know what you did with them bodies." How could she have done that? Mr. Todd was the demon, not her. She was an angel. But angels didn't chop up bodies, bake them into meat pies, and sell them. How did Mr. Todd trick her into it?

"Why, mum?" he asked her, losing what little conviction his voice had had. "Why did you do that?" And as he said it, he lost control and the tears pouring.

"Oh, Toby," Mrs. Lovett whispered, her heart melting for the tiny boy. He looked so scared, poor thing. "Dearie, I don't expect you to understand why. I barely understand it myself. Come here," she said, holding out her arms. The child ran into them, sobbing. "I'm sorry, love. But it's good business. Mr. Todd needs the blood, I suppose. And you've tasted them yourself; the best meat pies ever created are made from humans. I'm sorry." She stroked his hair and continued to talk as he cried himself out. "Mr. T. needed to get his revenge on the judge, you see. And he kept killing until the judge showed up. But he's got the judge now, so I suppose all of this will stop. We have enough money to get away from here. By the sea, that's where we'll go, Toby. I promise."

"But will Mr. Todd be coming with us?" asked Toby, his tears drying.

"Of course, love. He's part of this strange little family."

"But mum, he's a murde-"

"Hush now. He had a good reason for all them deaths. But you wouldn't understand now. When you know more of the world, Toby, we'll explain it to you. But listen," she said, suddenly very, very serious. "You can never tell anyone about this, you understand? It absolutely has to be a secret, or they'll ship Mr. Todd and me off to prison, or a even madhouse. Is that where you want us to end up?"

"Not _you_," Toby said sullenly.

"Hush, darling. Don't speak unkindly of Mr. T."

"Why? Because you're afraid of him?" Toby was a little surprised at himself. Never would he have thought to question Mrs. Lovett.

"No, child. He could kill us both without hesitating, that's for sure, but I'm not afraid of him. You shouldn't be either."

"He don't like me, mum."

"He will now. Just had other things on his mind before. And I suppose, children is a difficult thing for him…" She had just remembered about Johanna. Wasn't the sailor supposed to be bringing the girl tonight? What was Mr. Todd doing now the judge was dead?

"Listen dearie, it's been a rough night. Why don't we just be off to bed? I've gotta check on Mr. T. first, but you'll be all right, won't you?"

"Yes, mum."

"Good. I'll see you in the morning, Toby. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, mum."

The two walked upstairs together, and once in the pie shop, Mrs. Lovett kissed Toby's forehead, and they went their separate ways. Toby to the guest bedroom where he slept, and Mrs. Lovett outside to go up to the barber shop.

"'Ello? Mr. T?" she called as she gently pushed open the door. "Listen, isn't Johanna supposed to be…" She trailed off as she saw Sweeney fast asleep in a pool of Turpin's blood.

_Well, that's lovely_, she thought, but there was something about Sweeney when he was asleep. He looked much younger with all of the worry and hatred and anger washed clean from his face. This was the face of the man that Nellie Lovett had loved since she had first seen him in the market with his wife. This was the face of Benjamin Barker. But at the same time, Sweeney Todd was behind it. Mrs. Lovett loved him just as much, if not more, as she had Benjamin. Maybe now they could really be a family. But if Johanna was coming…

Never mind Johanna now. Sweeney needed to sleep somewhere other than the slimy floor. Mrs. Lovett walked across to him, turning him over. She wiped the judge's blood from his face and carried him (as well as she could) over to the bed in the shop where he slept. Not that she had ever seen him sleep before. He was awake when she bedded down and was still that way long before the sun rose.

"Sweet dreams, Mr. Todd," said Mrs. Lovett, pulling the covers around him like he was a child. He smiled in his sleep.

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Early the next morning, Mrs. Lovett was down in the bake house, butchering the remains of Judge Turpin and Beadle when she heard Mr. Todd come downstairs. She hurried up into the shop to find him sitting at a table near the window, staring out into the light snow, grim faced as ever.

"Morning, Mr. T.," she said cheerily. "You want some breakfast?"

He shook his head.

"Well, I'm starving," she said, and went to work fixing herself some biscuits. "Toby!" she called loudly. "Breakfast in ten minutes!"

She uncovered a bowl of dough that she had left out last night to rise and added a bit of milk to it, stirring to make it more biscuit dough rather than pie crust. Then she kneaded the dough and began tearing it into small squares and placing them in the oven with her bare hands, a skill she had perfected long ago.

"So, Mr. Todd," she said while she was doing this. "You finally got the judge done in, I see." He remained silent, though the ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "Well now, I was thinking. That sailor boy was supposed to bring Johanna here last night, but they never came. I waited up for them while you slept, but around one, they still hadn't come 'round. What do you suppose happened to them?"

"I'm sure they're fine."

"Mr. T., that's not like you. 'Ere's what I think. I think that he thought better of taking her away by coach. He's a sailor, ain't he? I think maybe he just took 'er away on his ship, and they're going."

"I don't presume to doubt that, Mrs. Lovett. I was thinking along the same lines myself."

"So what now, Mr. T.?" she asked softly, moving toward him. "All the reasons you came back is now taken care of. What we gonna do now? Keep on with the business? Only so many blokes in London, love. And someone is bound to notice the judge is gone."

"Of course. But, we're alright for now. And even though the judge is gone, why should anyone suspect us? I'm sure there are hundreds of criminals with mates in prison who would love to get at him."

"I suppose you're right Mr. Todd. But, I was thinking."

"Again?"

She smiled. "Very clever. Mr. T., we're doing pretty good. Maybe soon we could move, go somewhere, you know."

"Like where?" he asked, although he already knew the answer to this.

"I dunno, love. The sea, maybe."

"I suppose we could. The sea's romantic enough to satisfy even you."

Mrs. Lovett was silent. Was he trying to tell her something? If he was, she didn't have a chance to find out, because at that moment, Toby walked into the room, rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning, love," said Mrs. Lovett brightly, walking back over to the stove and taking out the biscuits, placing some on a ceramic plate and handing it to Toby with a glass of water. Taking some for herself, she strolled back over to the table and sat down across from Mr. Todd and Toby. The child looked a bit scared, but was obviously determined not to show it.

"Now, you two," Mrs. Lovett said, placing her hands on the table to show she meant business. "We gotta decide what to do now. Toby, me and Mr. Todd was just talking about this. We both think that we should stay here for a while and keep up with the business, 'til Christmas, maybe, but then we're gonna go away. To the sea."

"Keep up with the business, mum?" asked Toby. She knew what he meant.

Mr. Todd looked at her sharply.

"Don't fret, Mr. T.. He already knows. That's what I meant, see. Do you need to keep up with this murdering business? Does wonders for the pies, of course, but it bothers Toby, and sooner or later, someone is bound to notice that nobody who comes for a shave here ever leaves. So, do you think you could keep it down to every other bloke, or somthin' like that? Christmas is only a month away; we'll have enough money to get away by then. Alright?"

Sweeney thought about that. Now that Turpin was gone, there wasn't anything he needed to worry about. His lust for death - his desire to feel his hand slashing at the warm, soft flesh under the chin, his need to watch the blood spurt - was gone. He could do it again in a heartbeat, but no longer did he feel like he _had_ to kill. It would bring him no pleasure.

"Alright. Every other man who comes here ends up in a pie. Every other man walks away with his smoothest shave ever," he said.

"Righty, then," said Mrs. Lovett. "Eat up, Toby. Today's a good day. Cause for celebration. Congratulate Mr. T."

"Congratulations, Mr. Todd," Toby said obediently before getting up. "I'm gonna keep washing off the tables like I was yesterday, mum."

"Right, dear."

She waited until he had gone outside before she turned back to Sweeney.

"Mr. Todd, the boy needs some sort of fatherly affection. Can't you at least let him know you like him?"

"You're asking me to be that child's father?" he asked, but instead of sounding angry, he sounded exhausted.

"I suppose I am, Mr. Todd. Sweeney," she said, putting her hand on his, surprising even herself. "We could have a life together. Maybe not like I dreamed. Maybe not like you remember. But we could get by."

She had used the same string of words on him before, he remembered. That time, Anthony had come bursting into the room. This time, they were totally alone.

He looked up into her hopeful brown eyes.

"Mrs. Lovett," he started. "I'm a married man."

"She's gone, love. There's not really a point in constantly thinking about her when she'll never be yours until you die. I'm here for you while you're alive. _Life_ is for the alive."

Sweeney looked back down at the table, at her hand on top of his. Her fingers were soft and warm. He remembered Mrs. Lovett from before he had been sent away. She had been much the same, and he had not loved her then.

But why not now? Why couldn't he love Mrs. Lovett? She had taken him in, given him a place to stay, shown constant affection toward him no matter how unfriendly he had been toward her. She did not care that he was a cold-blooded murderer. She understood why he had needed to kill. Lucy wouldn't have understood. Lucy would have run from him. She had barely seemed to love him as it had been. And Mrs. Lovett would always love him. Mrs. Lovett…Eleanor. That was her first name. Nellie. That's what Lucy had called her when the two had been friends. Nellie Lovett. It was a fine name, to be sure, but it sounded even better as Nellie Todd. . .

He shook himself. And why not! She was right. Lucy was gone. Benjamin Barker had loved Lucy. And Benjamin Barker was dead, just like her. Sweeney Todd was here now, and he had full rights to whatever woman that loved him. Nellie was here now. Nellie loved him. And Goddammit, he loved her too.

Sweeney looked back up at the woman next to him, and saw what she was for the first time. She had dark red hair, black and blue lacy dress, strong arms, swift feet, soft brown eyes, and a quick tongue. Not only was she beautiful, she was useful. Nellie was strong, she was clever, she was a fighter. Lucy had been nothing but a pretty picture, her mind empty and her strength nonexistent.

"Mrs. Lovett…" he began, but then decided he didn't like that word any more. "Nellie." There, that was much better. "Yes. We can have a life. You, me, and the boy." And then he smiled.

Mrs. Lovett was surprised, to say the least. For one thing, she was fairly certain this was the only time she had seen him smile since he had become Sweeney Todd. For another, her burning passion for the silent, moody man had finally been recognized. He had finally realized how good a wife she would make. How much he cared for her. Of course, Nellie was only guessing this. But his smile made it impossible to doubt him. And before she knew what she was doing, she had leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his.

His initial reaction was to draw away, to lean back. This woman was not Lucy, his instincts told him. But his heart won over his mind. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her back.

The two stayed there for several minutes, locked in a tender embrace. Then Nellie looked him straight in the eye and whispered, "Mr. Todd, you are a new man today."

He silenced her with another kiss.

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**YAY! Personally, I always believed that Sweeney and Nellie were for each other. BURN IN DEATH MOUNTAIN, LUCY! **

**Disclaimer: I-a don't-a own-a a-Sweeney Todd. I SHAVE-A THE POPE.**


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